


tiger cub with a scorched tail

by AzuraDameron



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Origin Story, as in literal gremlin child Genichiro charms and harms his way into Isshin's heart, some carp were harmed in the making of this fic, the original characters being genichiro's birth mom and his eventual adoptive mom/isshin's daughter, they're prominent enough i figured i'd tag em
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 16:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18996028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzuraDameron/pseuds/AzuraDameron
Summary: Isshin journeys to the border of Ashina to dispatch of encroaching bandits, unaware he's about to encounter a loathsomely lovable boy who's as stubborn as the day is long and righteous as he is desperate.





	tiger cub with a scorched tail

**One Year After the Rebellion**

The place could hardly call itself a village. Misshapen huts sat terraced among measly rice fields, as if washed up on the shore and merely cleaned up when the villagers settled down here. Thick pines and emerald bamboo choked the village from sight, rendering it missable if one didn’t know where to look. 

It was also muddy, courtesy of the river. Isshin’s horse micro-twitched as its hooves were suctioned into the shifty muck. The caravan of soldiers and carts behind him didn’t seem to fare much better. A few stray whinnies signaled horses straying too close to the river’s edge, a few curses meant close calls for near-stuck cart wheels. To say that the Ashina were tired after the four day jaunt would be an insult, but to say everyone wasn’t very ready to set up camp would be a lie. 

Isshin surveyed the village he'd save from oncoming bandits. Some people toiled in their fields, most fished far ahead at the river’s bend. A few farmers stood up, or called for family members to poke their heads out, and look upon the caravan. They gawked at him with awe, confusion, and suspicion. Isshin didn’t blame them— he’d never had direct contact with this particular hamlet throughout the rebellion. The dense forests left it better suited to his daughter and her shinobi. 

No one dared approach the small army on their way through, and anyone walking along the path scurried to the shoulders of the road.

Isshin clicked his tongue in thought. “General Yamauchi, I think the villagers are scared of me.”

From his left flank, Shikibu chuckled. “You aren’t exactly a Laughing Buddha, sir.”

“Pfah! You lift that one from my daughter?” Isshin groused. It was a line not foreign to the smart mouth of Sumire. “Speaking of, you know where to meet her?”

“I do,” Shikibu confirmed. “Are you going to mingle with your subjects?”

“Only one way to cure fear!” Isshin pulled Matsukaze from the front, letting Shikibu take the lead. “I’ll just flash them my winning smile.”

Shikibu smirked under his menpo. “You don’t have a winning smile.”

“And you have a disrespect issue, but I still let you swing a spear around!” Isshin shouted. His tone was stern, chiding to anyone who didn’t know better.

Shikibu just chuckled again, the sound muffled under horse hooves. “You like disrespect. Can’t shake your commoner roots, my lord!” With that accurate proclamation, Shikibu lead on. The caravan questioned Isshin as they passed by, wondering if they had new orders. Isshin waved them off and dismounted his horse. He walked along with Matsukaze’s reins in his hands, both checking in on his troops and checking out the village. From the covered wagon, Dogen shot Isshin an inquisitive eyebrow raise, something easy to miss with his hat and long cloth exposing only his eyes. He could only read it because he knew the doctor well. And because everyone close to Isshin tended to give him shit, so he could just assume everything he did would be met with similar expressions of skepticism.

Once the caravan passed him by, Isshin considered the winding path up to the largest building in the village. Meeting with the elder would be the most pertinent use of his time. But—

—a scuffling in the reeds snagged his attention. On the riverbank, four short figures sniggered. They were ill-natured, and scraped Isshin’s nerves. He climbed back onto Matsukaze, both for the sightline advantage and the intimidation factor. 

Sure enough, three boys were harassing a girl. They were the typical bully shapes: the scrawny rat, the wide brute, and the average build that carried himself like a grand leader. They ranged from thirteen to ten, by Isshin’s estimate. The girl was diminutive, no more than eight. The leader stood like he was tall as a mountain, with the rat simpering laughter by his side as the brute tugged on the girl’s arm.

“C’mon, Ayuko! When’s your savior gonna arrive, huh?” the leader jeered.

“I don’t know!” she sobbed. “Lemme go! It hurts!”

Isshin gnashed his teeth, weighing the consequences of charging up to them, sword drawn, bellowing a war cry. It would kill his nascent image with the village, cementing him as a cruel lord who’d draw his sword on children. On the other hand, Isshin didn’t start an entire rebellion, invent a sword style, and _lose a fucking eye_ for his own people to bully each other. 

“Aaawwhhh, she says a lil tugging huuuurts,” the rat mocked.

“I’ll show you hurt.” The brute yanked on Ayuko’s arm and grabbed her hair.

Fuck it. Isshin popped his thumb against his katana, tightened his hand on Matsukaze’s reins—

—and then something _burst_ from the river behind them.

The three bullies screamed, reaching octaves higher than the girl’s. Whatever was in the water erratically lurched towards them. Isshin first identified it as a decently large carp, but then carp didn’t usually yell, “Leave her alone!”

Isshin sat on his horse, in the middle of the mud road, absolutely befuddled. A boy waded to the bullies, holding a thrashing carp by the tail, with twig-thin arms that had no right keeping hold of that fish. The bullies were flabbergasted enough to stand there and watch, no doubt also trying to process what they saw. 

Ayuko whirled around and cried, “Genichiro!” 

“Fuck, is he crazy?!” the leader yelped. 

By some miracle, the flailing fish did not knock the boy— Genichiro?— off balance as he splashed to shore. His shriek split the air, damn near hurt Isshin’s ears, as he slapped the leader and the rat with his living weapon. The resulting wet _THWACK_ echoed in the air and in Isshin’s head. He didn’t think he’d ever heard fish against skin, but now he knew.

With another scream, Genichiro slashed the fish again. The brute raised his arms over his head, but Genichiro swung low, slamming under his jaw and right through his guard. The brute went careening back, but the fish stayed in Genichiro’s grip. _Somehow._

“Get him!” the leader screeched, as if his rat would do anything. 

Genichiro whipped his head around, giving Isshin the first view of the insane boy’s face. His black hair hung in wild mats and stuck to his cheeks, his teeth bared in a snarl, his dark eyes flaring. The rat squealed and fled. The brute scrambled soon after.

Left alone, the leader was forced to retreat. But he spat some parting words: “Freak! I’m gonna tell the elder you’re a kappa!”

“Good! Watch your assholes or I’ll rip your soul out!” Genichiro roared back. He was a small boy, but gods could he project.

Well then.

To hell with the elder or anyone else in the town, Isshin needed to figure out what the _fuck_ was up this boy right now, immediately.

He walked Matsukaze over to the two children as Genichiro wrestled with his fish. 

“Ayu, Ayu, get me a knife!” he strained.

Between the distress of her rescue and the sudden sight of Isshin on his towering horse, Ayuko could do little but stare in blank shock. Isshin dismounted and drew his blade.

“Will a sword do?” Isshin asked. Were Sumire or Lady Butterfly around, they’d tease him for his dramatic entrances. Just as well that they weren’t. 

Genichiro looked up, an answer dying on his lips as his eyes widened and his grip went slack. The carp, choking on air but feeling an opportunity, gave one last flop. It flung itself from Genichiro’s grip, landing in the mud and sending Genichiro on his ass. 

Genichiro swore, but Isshin was already poised. He waited until the fish struggled away from Genichiro just enough before plunging his blade through its head. The carp immediately ceased moving.

Isshin slipped his sword free and sheathed it. “Problem solved.”

Genichiro blinked. Rapidly. He picked up the dead fish (as big as his torso, Isshin noted), held it close like it was precious, and dazedly mumbled, “Thank you.”

Isshin turned to the girl. “Are you alright?”

Ayuko startled. “Um!” She pressed the heels of her palms into her cheeks, as if pressing the tears back in. “I’m! I’m fine!” Her voice was still croaky from crying. “Uhm, thanks, Geni…”

Genichiro snapped out of his spell. “Oh, yeah, of course.”

The girl wiped the tears from her face and vowed, “I’m gonna sneak you some rice later.”

Genichiro’s face split in a wide smile. “You’re the best, Ayu, the _best!_ ”

Ayuko managed a smile, took one extra look at Isshin, and promptly decided it was time to take off for one of the huts. 

Genichiro shrewdly glanced between the fish in his arms and the man who stabbed it. Isshin returned with his own analyzing up-and-down. He still couldn’t believe the boy kept hold of the fish the entire time, considering the fish was wet, strong, and almost as big as him. His arms and legs were veritable sticks, coated with a paper-thin layer of wiry muscle. His torso was broad for a kid’s, his ribs protruding. Despite the malnourishment, his face was still somehow laden with baby-fat. Despite his stature, he held himself like an aristocrat— no, there was something nobler in his bearing. Confidence and determination oozed from his every pore. A warrior, perhaps. Most striking were the eyes, an usual blue-green color, like a rain-darkened river. Like he carried a storm in him, like nature touched this boy somehow.

“You look important,” the boy stated, breaking the stare-off.

Well, _that_ was an understatement. “You could say that.”

“Who are you?” No manners with this one, it seemed.

“Isshin Ashina. You might’ve heard the name.” Isshin didn’t fancy himself a braggart, but he wasn’t self-effacing either. He preferred his subtle gloating. 

The boy’s eyes widened comically wide. “You’re… the Sword Saint.”

Isshin smirked. “Something like that. I’d hardly call myself saintly.”

The boy was silent for a moment as he took in every detail of Isshin, though he kept focusing on the maedate. Isshin let him soak in his hero worship. There were several more beats of silence before the boy whispered, “I heard you can cut a man in half from across the field, with just a stare.”

Now _that_ was certainly one of the most outlandish exaggerations Isshin had heard recently. “Untrue, I’m afraid. I need a little more than a stare.”

The boy’s face twisted up in disappointment. “I didn’t think you would be _modest_.” He scoffed the word ‘modest’ like one would accuse a deserter of being a coward. 

That startled a hearty laugh out of Isshin. “Hah! I would never claim to be modest, boy. But when you’re of my skill, embellishments are a disservice. Such stories cast doubt upon reality, upon me!”

“Oh…” Genichiro gazed up at Isshin like he declared the most awe-inspiring statement ever. “Um… my name’s Genichiro.”

“I heard. It’s a strong name.” Isshin took the reins of Matsukaze once more, and mounted the horse in one smooth motion. He sat with extra space in front of him, as much as he could manage in the saddle. “Which way is home for you, Genichiro?”

Genichiro blinked, stalling. Unable to summon words, he pointed in the direction of the river bend.

“Excellent, I was heading that way anyway.” Isshin offered his hand. The boy continued to blink like a confused bird, sizing up Isshin’s hand like either flowers would materialize in it or it would transform into a snake. “You should probably toss your fish up here first.”

That decided it. Genichiro’s brows met fiercely. “No thanks, I’ll walk.” 

Isshin retracted a hand with a low chuckle. “Alright then.”

He thought Genichiro meant he’d walk on his own, but to Isshin’s surprise, Genichiro toddled along with Matsukaze’s slow pace. Isshin let silence wash over them for a bit, looking at back out at the village. As soon as he turned his head to them, some of the villagers scattered like frightened songbirds. A few remained planted in their place, lips quirked and eyes squinting like they couldn't put Genichiro and Isshin together in their head. Some were close enough that Isshin caught some of their mutterings. "...Is that thief...?" "...Who's the lord...?" "Is he finally in trouble...?" Genichiro positioned himself so the villagers couldn’t see him from behind Matsukaze. Isshin didn’t smile, but he knew how to relax his face enough to look serene and strong; he nodded to them, maedate flashing in the late noon sun. 

At long last, Isshin could swallow his burning question no longer. “So… why did you attack them with a fish? _How_ did you even catch it?” 

“With my hands,” Genichiro answered, as if it were the simplest and most obvious thing in the world. “It usually doesn’t work, but I was extra careful this time.”

“So you were… fishing, and decided to kill to two birds with one stone?”

“No,” Genichiro said, and Isshin tried not to audibly splutter at that. “I fight those three a lot. If I just charge in, they gang up on me. I have to get… creative.”

Creative was certainly one word for it. Isshin tucked the tactic away in his head. Not that he thought it was particularly applicable or reliable, but Isshin didn’t get this far by dismissing ideas he initially thought would never be useful. “Well… I’ve seen a great many things in my time, and I congratulate you on defeating your enemies in the most creative way I’ve ever seen.”

Genichiro grinned, slow at first, shining against all the dirt smudged on his face. Isshin wondered if, somewhere in the year of peace, he’d gone soft. Or if he’d lost touch with children, and interacting with this boy was a stark reminder of why he raged against the Ministry in the first place. Or perhaps, this Genichiro was simply a special one.

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how much I've banged my head against this fic. It feels quite like playing the actual game.
> 
> Also, fun fact: according to one (1) wikipedia article, the japanese say that the soul is stored in the ass. I am not kidding you. Look up the Kappa article.


End file.
